


you've left me shimmering

by youremyqueen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Character Death, Comment Fic, Dreams, Fantasizing, Ghosts, M/M, POV Male Character, POV Third Person, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-16 08:43:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/537606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youremyqueen/pseuds/youremyqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I dreamed you were dead," he murmurs against Robb's warm lips.</p><p>Written for the asoiaf comment fic meme on lj, prompt was: <i>put down your sword and crown, come lay with me on the ground.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	you've left me shimmering

There is golden light climbing the edge of the hill, and Robb stands at the top, bathing like a god, like a thing made new - the rising son.

"You're dead," Theon says from the shadows, a ragged thing on the ground. Robb just smiles at him, clever and comforting, and it warms through his very bones.

Theon smiles back, and then wakes with a start.

It is cold in the ruins of Winterfell, and Robb isn't completely gone as Reek sits up, but he fades away quickly on the wind, disappearing into the white of the sky. It looks like snowfall - it always looks like snowfall of late. _Winter is coming_ , Reek thinks, and laughs despairingly to himself. _Theon_ \- whoever he is - is just as gone as Robb, and all that's left in his place is a wreck of a man in a wreck of a castle, with a thin cloak and thinner skin.

\---

Jeyne's hands are small and cold on him as she whispers her thanks. They huddle in the snows, frozen to each other and surely not far from death. He thinks he should be afraid, be fighting tooth and nail, trying his damnedest to survive - that's what Robb would do.

He's not Robb, though. He is Theon of House Greyjoy, which, though better than Reek, is not much of anything at all. And he doesn't think he will mind dying.

Jeyne deserves to live, though, so he takes her icy fingers in his, and pulls her on, forward to something like salvation.

\---

He sleeps too much, he knows, but it's the only way he can escape the cold. His dreams are full of warm light and the rolling fields of spring and the stubble of Robb's cheek against his neck. He is a boy with his brother, and a man with his friend, and his shoulder blades dig into the cool dirt as Robb presses him into the ground, shaking with bright morning laughter and pressing kisses to Theon's lips.

It doesn't feel quite real, but it feels right and that is what matters. _This_ is what matters, the warring world outside be damned.

"I dreamed you were dead," he murmurs against Robb's warm lips, and they quirk under his, a smile lighting his boyish face.

"It's alright," he tells Theon, speaking into the dark strands of his hair. The white is gone, it seems, though Theon doesn't know how or why. "It doesn't matter now."

Theon thinks Robb must be right. Robb is the Young Wolf, the Warrior himself come to life under Theon's hands, a statue of bronze and gold and light, forever young and strong and _here_ , solid and true. A thing to be treasured, and held onto. A thing that fights and wins and saves. Theon already feels saved.

"I know," he says, nodding back, and breathing in the scent of fresh earth and crisp morning as Robb kisses him again.

\---

Theon sleeps too much, and one day, he doesn't wake.


End file.
